


charged

by andromedagalaxy



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 21:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andromedagalaxy/pseuds/andromedagalaxy
Summary: A "what are they thinking in the cabin?" in poem form.





	charged

They feel the electricity like the ground is made of it, like every turn  
Lukas makes is a bolt of lightning, every photo Philip takes  
is wired, making his hair stand on end.

They both want the same thing.

Have been wanting it for weeks, since the first moment,  
since _wanna take some shots for me?_  
since _yeah, I’m into motocross_

and Lukas doesn’t understand  
can wring his hands until he doesn’t have hands anymore  
but every time he looks at Philip he’s looking at his mouth,  
looking at his neck,  
and maybe Lukas is buried alive under all this, raging against  
a ragged coffin mangled from all the things he can’t say  
but Philip Shea—  
maybe he can tear him from the ground—

Philip gets it, gets what this is, this heat and need—  
he’s held his own identity in his hands for years now,  
though he cradles it, protects it, draws it close.  
But Lukas splits all expectations, splits them into  
a thousand and one pieces,  
and Philip is left staring, open-mouthed  
at something he didn’t think existed before now.  
( _too bad I can’t have him he thinks  
too bad he’s fucking straight_ )

but the electricity crackles when they’re back in the cabin  
(currents ran through them on the bike too,  
but closeness, closeness, it’d be like that with anybody, right?)

 _amazing, awesome_  
and it feels like an open door, open door on both ends,  
like they’re standing in a whitewash room and all there is  
is breathing  
and Philip thinks maybe he can see him, maybe Lukas really is  
behind knotted cobwebs and tanged toils  
that pinch like regret

(Lukas sees him clear, vibrant, so bright the whole world  
is folding in on itself)

and Philip thinks maybe, maybe try, so he bets on maybe  
and goes down for a loss. It stings, stings so bad  
that he can’t  
move 

Lukas doesn’t know why he does it,  
doesn’t know why he does anything, why he breathes the wrong way  
or regrets every move he makes, especially this one,  
feeling the hurt in his hands, blackout threatening between them  
because now Philip is getting up, trying to leave  
and Lukas knows the whole world would topple without him,  
can feel it, feel it in his teeth and his throat and the veins in his eyes—

(Philip can’t get hurt again, not again  
not again not again like always like always)

_sit down, sit down_

Philip does because Lukas’s voice breaks,  
and they’re both so weak for each other  
already

and it’s buzzing again, the air, their bodies,  
the ache in Lukas’s hands and the strain in Philip’s eyes,  
and both of them wonder if the world can slow down,  
if they could reach out and touch the moment between Now  
and After

Lukas looks around and makes a choice. Chooses the feeling in his dreams,  
the thing that makes him touch himself at night,  
that feeling that he shouldn’t feel but he feels all too vividly,  
for him, for Philip  
so vivid it burns.  
He moves in slow, like he’s pushing through concrete not yet dry,  
wishing his future self luck, strength—

and when it happens it’s fast but Philip’s heart dips, stops, wavers  
and he doesn’t think his eyes have ever been this wide—  
they’re in the whitewash room again but he knocks the cobwebs away now  
and Lukas is there, bright and yearning

so here and now Philip moves in and knows he won’t get pushed away this time  
and they collide, fused, and it’s messy and awkward and everything,  
energy humming and hissing and boiling at the tips of their fingers  
and even though it’s not the best first kiss  
it’s the best first kiss  
because it’s him, because it’s Lukas, because when do crushes ever fucking work out?  
Never, that’s when, and Philip can’t stop himself from falling—

But Lukas is in a war, between The Him That Wants and  
The Him His Dad Knows, and he says _wait, wait_ while still moving in,  
another jolt going through his heart when he captures Philip’s lips again,  
and it’s wrong and it’s wrong and it’s wrong but it’s all he wants,  
all he needs, and he kisses like breathing, anxious restless breathing,  
kissing Philip is gonna keep him alive and kill him too  
(maybe bring out the real him, the right him, the one buried and raging)

The Him His Dad Knows issues a warning  
_Nobody’s gonna know about this, because you’re never gonna tell them_

and Philip doesn’t care, nods, has been a secret before  
could be anything Lukas wanted as long as he has this, his mouth,  
the shocks and spikes and surges,  
the possibilities,  
and maybe they’ve been dead this whole time,  
and their kissing is resuscitation,  
alive alive alive

They both know it’s something, a beginning of something,  
the electrical storm fuming and turbulent as they let themselves go,  
melting into each other and stripping away the outside world

(Lukas won’t call it the real world because he can’t kiss Philip there)

Philip whispers _Lukas_ as they press together  
and receives his own name in response, wild  
and charged


End file.
